


Undone

by Moontyger



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, Post-Siege of Orgrimmar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:24:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1566188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the siege was over, the waiting began.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [joyeusenoelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyeusenoelle/gifts).



“How can you forgive them? After everything you lost?” Jaina looked at Moira with pleading eyes, a hint of desperation mixed with the anger in her voice - the anger that was always there these days, no matter how she tried to get past it. She'd never been especially close to the dwarves and never expected to be asking one of them such personal questions, especially Moira, but these days, she had fewer and fewer choices when it came to confidants.

“And who says I have?” Without the height of her throne, Moira had to look up to meet Jaina's gaze, but it didn't seem to bother her.

Jaina sighed. “No one, I suppose.” The Council of Three Hammers hadn't been Moira's choice; she didn't have to have forgiven anyone to be part of it. “But when Ironforge was attacked, the others refused to defend the city because they didn't trust you. You managed to rise above it and trust that the other clans wouldn't do what they feared you would. I respect that.”

“And what else could I have done? Should I let the city be overrun because of my pride? And then, should I refuse to help against the Horde? The dwarves will not cause the fall of the Alliance!” Moira looked angry, jaw clenched stubbornly, and Jaina felt a little guilty for bringing it up. She had not meant to accuse, but she could not apologize, not sincerely. She, too, had never expected the Dark Irons to be the clan who aided the Alliance and without a dwarf's history of clan rivalries, she could not excuse her unthinking prejudice.

She turned away, wandering toward the window, but the view made her no happier. Here in the Vale, where they remained awaiting Garrosh's trial, the damage was still so obvious – obvious and heartbreaking. This place had once been so beautiful. “I don't know that I could have done it,” she said softly.

Once, of course she could have. She could have made Moira's decision without thought, without hesitation. Once, she had believed in peace. It had come as easy to her as breathing. Once she had trusted and believed others worthy of that trust. 

But those days were gone. She'd turned back from one drastic action and she didn't truly regret that choice, yet when she looked at this destruction, sometimes she thought it would have been better if she'd gone through with it. She'd have made herself into a monster, but this Vale would still be peaceful and untouched. When she thought of those who'd died in this siege, it almost seemed worth the price.

Jaina turned back and caught Moira watching her over her stein of Pandaren liquor. She couldn't quite read her expression, but something about it made her uncomfortable. She returned to her seat beside Moira, but she'd barely sat down before she longed to be up again.

In the past that seemed longer ago than it had really been, she'd been accounted patient. Hadn't she? She couldn't remember. Now the waiting weighed on her: a constant irritation, like an itching under the skin. “I don't see the point in this trial,” she said abruptly. “What difference will it make? We all know what that monster did.”

“Death's too good for him, if ye ask me.”

“Yes,” Jaina nodded. “You're right. But what else is there?” It wasn't a real question; she knew at least some of the alternatives perfectly well. There were prisons where Garrosh could be tortured for centuries, until he begged for death. It was the least he deserved.

But such prisons had failed before. “At least if he were dead, it would be over,” she mused, idly tracing the rim of her wineglass with a finger. Jaina stared into the wine as though she intended to use it for scrying, but even if it could give her answers, she wasn't sure she wanted them.

“Is that what you really want? For it to be over?” Moira's question was shrewd and Jaina looked up in surprise. “I heard what you said at the end there.”

She hadn't meant for it to be overheard, but Jaina found she wasn't ashamed of it. “I stand by it. We should have taken the city. We were in a perfect position to do so. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that the Horde can't be trusted.” Her lips twisted bitterly as she remembered all the times she'd argued otherwise. But hadn't she learned better? Every time she'd trusted, it had been thrown back in her face. She'd been a slow learner, but learn she had.

Moira's eyes were dark and she took a long pull from her stein before she replied. “And how many would we have lost if we had?”

“Less than we'll lose in the next war.” The reply was automatic, but Moira's words reminded her that the entire dwarven team had been destroyed. Jaina believed she was right, but in the face of such loss, she understood the question.

“Then what would ye do? Defy your king and raze the city yourself?”

“No.” Jaina shook her head, then tucked an errant strand of hair back behind her ear. “I almost did that once. It's too late to change my mind.” She regarded her empty glass, considering more wine, then decided she'd better not. She pushed it away, a little harder than necessary: hard enough that it fell off the edge of the table. Jaina could have caught it with her magic easily enough, but she let it fall. It was just a glass and the smashing sound it made as it hit the floor was oddly comforting.

“You were right before: the Alliance must stand together. But I hate this waiting!”

“Then go home. You're a mage; it should be simple enough. The trial won't start without ye.”

Moira made it sound so easy. “Home,” Jaina said softly. “I wonder where that is.” But that loss had nothing to do with her current companion and she couldn't expect her to be able to answer.

Perhaps she was right. Despite all the reasons they shouldn't be, all the reasons they should despise both Alliance and Horde, the pandaren were still welcoming, but she'd spent enough time here. It was time to return.

Jaina got to her feet, careful to avoid the broken glass on the floor, and put a hand on Moira's shoulder. “Thank you for spending this time with me. We haven't been good friends before, you and I. Perhaps it's time to change that.”

Moira nodded, one braided bun brushing Jaina's hand with the gesture. “It's time to change a lot of things.”

As she teleported back to Dalaran, Jaina couldn't disagree.

Once she arrived in the Purple Parlour, she wandered out to the balcony and stared over the city, carefully looking past the red domes of the former Sunreaver quarter as best she could. Looking at them just made her angry all over again and she was so tired of being angry.

It was a beautiful view, but then so many of them were. Jaina had spent much of her life in towers, looking down at the world from on high. She used to value the perspective it gave her. From up here, much of the darkness and dirt of the world was hidden. The complicated, ugly parts of people's lives disappeared. It looked so peaceful. From up here, she could see far, far enough to have once almost believed she could glimpse the future – a happy future that looked nothing like this one.

But the girl who'd had such fancies was long gone, gone so thoroughly that Jaina doubted that girl would recognize the woman she'd become. Perhaps it was even for the best, though it was hard to believe that.

With a final sigh, she turned away from the view and sought her bed. There, at least, she might find some peace. In dreams, those lost could live again. In dreams, she might change the past, or even see a way forward, a path that led to a future less bitter than the present. She could only hope that such a path truly existed and that one day she'd find it. If not... she shook her head, unwilling to even consider it.

Jaina rested her head on her pillow and closed her eyes. Garrosh was defeated, but he still lived. The war was over, but the Horde still existed. While these things were true, nothing was finished. But she thought of Moira and her determined refusal to surrender, no matter what had been taken from her, and slowly smiled. Jaina wasn't finished either.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Undone (Light Cuts Both Ways--The Shattered But Unbroken Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4213791) by [Erinya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erinya/pseuds/Erinya)




End file.
